


Opening up the blinds

by Readingfanfics



Series: Prompts [63]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Changing POV, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Sherlock, Love Confessions, M/M, Shy Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 01:10:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14989475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: “I said, it's not absurd that I would want you.”A moment of braveness changes things between Sherlock and Greg, but is it more than just sex?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nottoolateforthegame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottoolateforthegame/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Making the Same Mistakes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10467135) by [nottoolateforthegame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottoolateforthegame/pseuds/nottoolateforthegame). 



> Inspired by Making the Same Mistakes by nottoolateforthegame. I loved their Johnlock version and just had to try my hand on the Sherstrade version.

**Opening up the blinds**

\--Chapter 1--

**There had been many theories about how she had been murdered** and of course, Sherlock had deduced away every single one of them. Since then it had been hell and Greg was on the verge of screaming or crying when they finally found her killer and it all turned out to be a simple 'if I can't have her, nobody will' kind of thing. Now all Greg wanted to do was go home and sleep for 24 hours straight but somehow he was still at the station, behind his desk, trying to make sense of the words swimming before his eyes. He hated paperwork. Anyone that said coppers had all the fun clearly didn't know the first thing about the job.

“God, let this day be over already.”

“I don't think he cares that much about your day, Lestrade.”

Greg nearly jumped out of his chair, giving Sherlock a scowl when the man just smirked, sitting down in a fluent motion that always gave Greg butterflies. Sherlock placed a bag on his desk and the butterflies in Greg's stomach flew even harder, noticing it was take-out from his favorite Chinese restaurant.

“What's the occasion?” Greg asked, his stomach growling as the smell reached his nose and he detected a beginning blush on Sherlock's cheeks before the man shrugged a shoulder and gestured towards the bag.

“Are you going to eat it or just let it get cold?”

Greg didn't even respond, opening the bag and tucking in, not able to stop a delicted moan when the first bite filled his mouth. God, he'd been hungry!

“It was a purple desklamp.”

“Sorry, what?” Greg blinked, swallowing away another bite, letting out another content sigh and he was fairly sure Sherlock's blush had grown. The man pointed to a line on the file Greg had been trying to fill out and that drew attention to Sherlock's long fingers and how they could feel around his cock. Dammit!

“The desklamp was purple, not pink.”

“I don't think the color of the murder weapon is that important, Sherlock.”

“Details, Lestrade. They matter.”

“Fine.” Greg sighed, correcting pink to purple and it earned him a small, beginning smile on those lush lips. Lips that would probably feel amazing on his body, sucking and kissing, and- Oh, for fuck's sake!

Greg looked down at his file, taking another bite of the food Sherlock had brought him. This was getting ridiculous! He'd been working with Sherlock for over a year now and he'd never once had those kind of thoughts about the man before. At least not till three months ago when they'd gone undercover for a case and Greg had seen Sherlock dance in the middle of a growded dancefloor, seducing their potential murderer. Something about seeing Sherlock move, the way his hips went back and forth, how he'd become one with the rythm had left Greg hungry to see more. Their eyes had connected for a couple of seconds and the way Sherlock had gone from seductive to shy had set Greg's whole body on fire.

Every since he'd had these thoughts about the man. Forbidden thoughts. Inapproprite thoughts. Thoughts that made Greg want to drag the man out of his chair and slam him against his office door.

Not that he was so foolish to believe Sherlock would want him. The man looked like a combination of a Greek god and a supermodel. He was intelligent, much brighter and faster then Greg would ever be. The way sherlock looked at the world and made connections blew his mind and he had no doubt a man like Sherlock had enough people to choose from. The very idea that Sherlock Holmes would choose him was absurd.

“Don't.”

Sherlock's sharp voice cut his train of thought off, snapping him back into reality.

“What? Did I get another detail wrong? Maybe the color of the guy's shoes?” Greg grinned but it faided as soon as he saw the hurt expression in Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock was so good at playing the 'I don't care about anything' persona, that Greg sometimes believed in it. Forgetting that Sherlock actually cared deeply and words from others could and did hurt him. He was about to apologize when Sherlock beat him to it, his voice so soft Greg wasn't sure he heard it correctly and had to ask again.

“I said, it's not absurd that I would want you.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

\--Chapter 2--

Sherlock looked as Lestrade moved in his sleep. The man was gorgeous while he slept. He was always gorgeous, but there was something about a sleeping Lestrade that started a fire in Sherlock's belly, going down to his groin and settling there. His cheeks warmed up as he thought back to last night. He still didn't know what had possessed him, speaking out like that, staying seated as Lestrade put two and two together.

The fire and want in the man's eyes had shocked Sherlock for a moment, not knowing how to respond when Lestrade had gotten out of his chair, rounded his desk and pulled Sherlock up, taking his face in both hands. He'd never stood so close to Lestrade before and it was exhilarating but also scary.

“Tell me I'm not having some very realistic dream.”

It would have been easy for Sherlock to stop it all there, go back to how things had been but the very idea had made him sick so he'd looked up through his laces, face burning as he'd replied.

“It's not a dream at all.”

The rest of the night had been a haze of touching skin, sweet words and an overload of sensations Sherlock wasn't used to. He'd never been kissed like that before, Lestrade taking all the time in the world to really taste him, to get to know him on the most intimate levels and Sherlock's heart had sung, feeling loved and cherished by a man who really was out of his league.

Now he was sitting in Greg's bedroom, watching the man sleep and driving himself crazy with his thoughts. Was this the start of a sexual relationship or just a one-time thing? Did Lestrade even want to see him when he woke up or did the man already regret it? How would Sherlock handle the rejection? He'd been attracted to the man almost from the start. His soft brown eyes, fit body, calm and patient personality. Lestrade's ability to always see the bright side of life and give everyone a chance. It was so much more than just lust and it terrified him.

Maybe he should just go? It would be the easy way out, give him time to clear his head and figure out how to deal with all this but somehow, his body couldn't move so he kept sitting in his chair. Watching Lestrade sleep and worrying.

\--

“Stop it.”

Sherlock startled out of his thoughts by Lestrade's rough voice and it instantly made his body come to life. He blinked, seeing the man watch him with a serious expression on his face, opening up the blankets when their eyes connected.

“Come to bed and stop worrying.”

“I'm not-”

“You are. I can feel your worry from here.” Lestrade gave a gentle smile as Sherlock looked down at being caught out. It was another thing that terrified him, how good Lestrade could read him.

“Come to bed, Sherlock. That will be enough for now.”

“I.” Sherlock stopped, body getting up without his consent and Lestrade's approving smile made the room shine brightly. Sherlock's cheeks were on fire by the time he slipped in next to Lestrade, the man covering them both and then taking Sherlock into his arms. Sherlock's head resting on the man's solid and naked chest. A chest he'd been able to explore, kissing and licking it for what had felt like hours. The sounds Lestrade had made had only spurred him on and when he'd bit down on a nipple he'd been rewarded with the most amazing growl and a devastating kiss. A kiss Sherlock would never be able to delete.

“Last night was-”

Lestrade stopped and Sherlock felt his heart skin, doubt creeping back in as Lestrade's arms around him tightened. Was this it? Their last moments together? Sherlock closed his eyes, burying his face in Greg's chest, hearing the man's heartbeat against his ear.

“Don't.” Lestrade moved and Sherlock was forced to lift his head, meeting the man's gaze. “Whatever you are thinking, stop. I don't regret anything. Do you?”

“No!”

Sherlock blushes full on as his words hit the wall, bouncing back to them. He can't seem to do anything right at this point in time. He tries to turn away, hide from view but Lestrade stops him, stroking his heated cheek with his thumb and Sherlock's eyes fall closed, melting into the small touch. Nobody has ever touched him like that before. Gentle, loving, honest.

“That's good. Can I kiss you, Sunshine?”

He'd only able to nod, seeing the grin on Lestrade's face before their lips touch and suddenly everything falls into place.

 


	3. Chapter 3

\--Chapter 3--

2 weeks later

“I came over as soon as I could. Are you okay?” Greg steps closer to the kitchen table, seeing Sherlock hunched over his lab equipment and some of his worry eases when he doesn't see a sign of injuries. Sherlock had texted him about an hour ago, asking for Greg to come to his flat as soon as possible and when the man didn't respond to Greg's questions he'd finished up the rest of his paperwork in a hurry, saying a quick goodbye to Sally and the team.

Now he wasn't sure why he'd hurried in the first place, Sherlock looked just as usual, so far gone in his work he hadn't even heard Greg come in and he gently placed a hand on the man's shoulder, a bit amused by the flinch it caused.

“Lestrade? What are you-”

“You texted. Said it was important.” Greg answers, seeing the realization dawn on that gorgeous face and he's about to say something funny when Sherlock's expression changes from realization to shame. Those brilliant eyes of his go down, focusing on his experiment before him and Greg can see the beginning blush on the man's cheeks, even if said man tries to hide it as best he can.

“Sherlock?”

“It's fine, Lestrade. I'm not-” Sherlock makes contact for a second and Greg's whole body breaks because of it. There's a mix of shame and shyness there that he hasn't seen yet and it's terrifying. He gives Sherlock's shoulder a squeeze before moving his arm up and brushing his fingers through the man's curls. No product today, so it's extra soft.

“Tell me, Sherlock. What do you need?”

“I.” The way Sherlock nibbles at his bottom lip brings back pleasant memories from earlier times but Greg quickly snaps back into focus. It's not what Sherlock needs right now, he knows that much. There's another long moment of inner debate before Sherlock's made up his mind, standing up and catching Greg off guard as Sherlock wraps around him like an octopus, burying his face in the crook of Greg's neck.

“Oh, sunshine.” Greg whispers, gently swaying their bodies together as Sherlock clings to him tightly, pressing as close as humanly possible. Greg rubs Sherlock's back in firm strokes, feeling the man's breathe on his neck, Sherlock's curls tickling his cheek.

“Let's go sit down, Sunshine. Come on.” Greg guides Sherlock to the sofa when the man releases him, his face a deep red, eyes downcast. Greg quickly takes off his coat and shoes, then sits down and guides Sherlock down next to him, giving the man a reassuring smile when their eyes meet.

“It's alright, Sherlock. Come on, lay down.” They shift and move till Sherlock's head is in Greg's lap and Greg can run his fingers through Sherlock's hair, finding comfort in the silence, seeing Sherlock's facial feature soften as time goes on. Something about the whole situation feels more intimate then the blowjobs they've shared before and Greg leans down to place a kiss on Sherlock's head, smiling when the man opens his eyes to look at him.

“I didn't know if-”

“What, Sherlock?” Greg waits, Sherlock again nibbling on his lip, gathering his courage.

“I didn't know if it was allowed to-”

“Of course, Sherlock.” Greg stops him, his heart again breaking at the insecurity in Sherlock's voice. “Of course it's allowed. Bad day?”

Sherlock just nods and Greg hums in understanding. He's had days like that. Days where all you need is a good cuddle and an understanding mind. Part of his brain is elated by the fact that Sherlock chose him to be that person. He'd seen the worry in Sherlock's body language the morning after they'd first kissed. He'd been worried himself, sure Sherlock wouldn't be there when he'd wake up. He'd been beyond thrilled when he'd spotted the man sitting in a chair, watching him.

They'd kissed, explored and cuddled for a while after Sherlock had come back to bed and everything had clicked into place then. They hadn't needed words or long declarations. They just were, together.

“You know you can ask me for what you need right? You don't have to be ashamed to want something.”

Sherlock nods after a moment and Greg gives a smile. It's enough answer for now. He puts on the tv, watching some silly movie about vampires that sparkle as he runs his fingers through Sherlock's hair, feeling the man relax fraction by fraction, almost melting into it. By the time the movie is halfway, Sherlock is asleep and Greg can't bring himself to disturb him, falling asleep when the movie has come to an unsatisfying end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my personal favorite part of the story. ( Is that weird to say about your own writing?)


	4. Chapter 4

\--chapter 4--

 

“Don't ever do that again!”

Sherlock's preplanned protest dies on his lips as Lestrade shoves him against the wall, hearing the lock close just before Lestrade's lips press on his. Hard. Demanding. Claiming.

It stops his world, the way Lestrade pins him against the wall, his right hand taking a bunch of curls and pulling it, making Sherlock expose more of his neck. He lets out a surprised yelp when teeth press into the soft skin, followed by a flick of cool tongue. Lestrade's other hand has slid down to his arse, grabbing it firmly and Sherlock doesn't know what to think of the whole situation.

“Le-Lestrade.”

He pants for breathe when they pull apart, seeing the fury and desire in Lestrade's eyes, his scalp stinging, his body on fire as Lestrade leans closer again, both his hands cupping Sherlock's face.

“You're not allowed to do that again, Sherlock.”

“I was just-”

He's cut off with another kiss and he can't stop a moan when he feels Lestrade's beginning erection against his leg. He grabs hold of the man, needing the support as his knees turn to yellow by Lestrade's wandering hands and exploring mouth.

“You infuriating man.” Lestrade pants, breathe hot against his skin as the man sucks at his neck before speaking again. “Running off like that, without back-up. You could have been killed. Idiot.”

Sherlock wants to point out that he's been too dramatic, that he was never in any real danger cause he knew Lestrade would get there in time but then Lestrade lifts him up and he can't think, only wrapping his legs around Lestrade's waist as they keep kissing.

It's never been like this before but feeling Lestrade's hard body against his, the soft growls reaching his ear as Lestrade kisses and bites his neck, he can't really object. Soon it's not enough and he lets out embarrassing sounds, his body trying to get even closer to Lestrade.

“Fucking hell, Sherlock!”

Hearing the man talk like that, in that tone of voice makes Sherlock want him even more and he wiggles in the man's arms till Lestrade lets go of him, pressing him back against the wall. Lestrade's desire and lust are clear in his eyes, watching Sherlock like he's never seen anything so precious and it makes Sherlock look down at the ground for a second, overwhelmed and worried.

“Maybe we should get you home?”

Sherlock looks up, afraid he's ruined the moment but Lestrade is still watching him in the same way and he shakes his head, placing a hand on the man's chest, keeping his gaze on him.

“I've- I've always wanted to have sex in your office.”

“Really?” Lestrade smirks, and it does crazy things to Sherlock but he doesn't break eye contact now, even taking a step closer to place a kiss on Lestrade's mouth.

“On your desk. C- Can we?” There's a moment of silence that makes Sherlock regret his words, thinking he's gone too far but then Lestrade lets out a half growl/half moan and suddenly Sherlock's being placed on the desk. Pens and paper fall to the ground as they kiss, letting out frustrated sighs as they fight to get at least half naked.

“Le-Lestrade.”

“Fuck, Sherlock. You're so gorgeous! Look at me!”

Sherlock opens his eyes, having to fight back the desire to close them again. There's something thrilling and terrifying watching Lestrade as the man takes Sherlock's cock in hand, pumping it in just the right way to make Sherlock forget about the world.

“That's it, Sunshine. Be loud, there's nobody here.”

Sherlock screams when Lestrade takes him into his mouth, the hot, wet sensation making him see stars. The sounds filling the room add a level of obscenity to it Sherlock didn't even know turned him on and suddenly he's not able to look away. Watching as Lestrade bobs his head, meeting Sherlock's gaze from time to time.

“I. I need-”

He doesn't even know what he needs but somehow Lestrade does cause his orgasm takes him by surprise, body taut and shaking as the last of his release drips down Lestrade's chin.

“Fuck!”

Lestrade stares at him as he takes his own cock in hand. Cursing and moaning as he strokes himself and Sherlock reaches out, taking Lestrade's free hand, interlacing their fingers as they look into each other's eyes. Sherlock's breathe caught, mesmerized by how beautiful Lestrade looked, being able to see him like this, open, vulnerable, real. It twisted something inside his stomach and the words tumbled out.

“I. I w-want to taste you.”

The reaction his words get him make his heart pound loudly inside his chest, a spark of pride there as he moves to bring his mouth closer to Lestrade's dick. The man stops for a second, desire in his eyes clear as he strokes Sherlock's hair and Sherlock leans forward, sticking out his tongue to lick the precome at the tip.

“FUCK!”

The grip in his hair tightens and Sherlock wraps his lips around Lestrade's cock, letting out a moan from the feel of it. He starts sucking and licking, trying to get as far as possible, but it's not something he's used to and needs to stop too soon for his liking, afraid Lestrade is going to be disappointed about his inexperience.

“I'm going. Sher- L-look at me.”

Their eyes meet and Lestrade lets out the most primitive growl Sherlock has ever heard, catching him off guard as cum lands on his lips and face. He can feel it dripping down his cheek as Lestrade curses, his body twitching, chest heaving and then, somehow, they end up on the floor together. A bundle of half worn clothes and tired limbs.

“You look gorgeous.” Lestrade whispers and Sherlock can hear the pride in his voice so he rolls his eyes, wiping away the man's release as much as possible before looking at him.

“Don't be smug, Lestrade.”

“I wouldn't dare.”

But the smirk on Lestrade's face only grows and Sherlock fake grumbles, trying to pull up his pants and trousers as they lay side by side.

“Hey,” Lestrade stops him, stroking Sherlock's cheek with a fond smile and Sherlock swallows, his face too warm as Lestrade slowly leans forward, brushing their noses together before placing a peck on it.

“You okay? I know I was a little rough there, in the beginning-”

“I'm fine.” Sherlock smiles, touching the spot on his neck Lestrade bit and there's something comforting about the fact that it's there. Evidence of what happened between them, what's been happening for the last few weeks.

“Cleaning lady's going to have a field day with all this.” Greg sighs, looking at the chaos of fallen paper, files, pens and some mugs. Sherlock turns his head to face him and they stare at each other for a moment before they both burst into giggles. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the smut. I hope it was satisfying.


	5. Chapter 5

 

\--chapter 5--

He knows he's being unlogical but at the same time, he can't stop himself. Just looking at Lestrade with that woman is making his blood run cold. He knows he has no right to be jealous. They've never really discussed their relationship, if it was even a relationship. They've haven't talked about whether this is just a friends with benefits thing or something more so really, his feelings are irrational and he should stop it right now.

Then the woman leans closer to Lestrade, a flirty expression on her face that makes Sherlock see red for a second. It's fairly obvious what she wants from Lestrade and he can't really blame her. Lestrade is a gorgeous creature after all, with his silver hair, strong and compact body, those brown puppy eyes and that smile that lights up a whole room. He's a perfect man, someone any woman would be foolish not to want to date but Sherlock had hoped, deep down, that Lestrade wouldn't want anyone else.

The time they spend together always felt real and honest and Sherlock was fairly sure Lestrade liked him. Just for who he was. There was no need to pretend with the man, he knew Sherlock like very few people did and the idea of losing that, that thrilling and terrifying connection, broke his heart as he watched the woman smile and flirt with Lestrade. When Lestrade smiled back, placing a hand on her shoulder he'd had enough of the retirement party altogether. He didn't even like Peterson, hadn't wanted to come in the first place but Lestrade had asked him if he'd be there tonight and Sherlock had nodded, his heart fluttering when Lestrade beamed at him.

Now he wished he'd just stayed at home, oblivious to his romantic delusions of their fake relationship. He was just about to open the door to leave the party when a warm hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Are you leaving already?” Lestrade's eyes are filled with concern as they go over Sherlock's face, his touch feeling torturously good on his shoulder. “You're not getting sick, are you? You look paler than usual.”

“I'm fine,” Sherlock whispers, not able to meet Lestrade's gaze. He just wants to leave and go home, try to delete tonight and all the weeks that had lead to this moment. He fears it wouldn't be possible and his heart clenches when Lestrade strokes his cheek with his thumb, a soft smile on his lips.

“Care to dance?”

“W-What?” He sounds like a fool, feeling his face warm up as Lestrade's smile gets a bit bigger, a touch fonder and everything inside Sherlock's body and soul wants to say yes. He wants Lestrade to lead him to the dancefloor, feel his strong body against his own, wrap himself in the warmth and smell of him but then the image of Lestrade smiling to the blond haired woman comes to mind and he pulls away from the man's touch.

“I think you're new friend is dying to dance with you judging by the way she threw herself on you just now.” He crossed his arms even if his face feels even hotter, jealousy clear in his words. He sees Lestrade raise an eyebrow, a second of confusion before it clicked and Sherlock wants to punch the man for the half laugh/half sigh that escaped him.

“Amelia is just a friend, Sherlock.”

“Right. Just like we are _just friends_.” He resists the temptation to use quotation marks but it's clear Lestrade has seen them anyway cause something in his expression changes. Something that makes Sherlock's body come alive and hold his breath.

“I think we need to talk.”

“No,” Sherlock cuts him off, feeling miserable. He can't do this. He can't listen to Lestrade, patient and kind Lestrade, talking about how they'd had a few wonderful weeks together but now it was time to move on. How they could still be friends after this. He can't bear to hear any of it so he stepped back, voice shaking as he talked.

“I apologize, Lestrade. I have no right to ask more of you. We've never discussed being an exclusive couple. Never discussed being _a_ couple. I should have realized that-”

“Sherlock.”

“If you seek sexual release elsewhere, then that is your right. Now, I have a busy day tomorrow and I don't want to keep you-”

“Sherlock, stop!” Lestrade grabs him by the arm as he tries to walk out the door and something about the man's voice makes him stop dead in his tracks, glued into place.

“What are you talking about?!” Lestrade whispers, eyes going left and right before meeting Sherlock's again, determined and beautiful. Sherlock feels the man's warm hand at the small of his back as they move away from the door, going to Lestrade's office. It feels like the whole office is watching them and by the time Lestrade has turned on the lights, pulled down the blinds and closed the door, Sherlock's hands are sweating.

“Sit down, Sherlock.”

“Lestrade, please, just-”

“Sit down.” Lestrade's voice goes up a fraction and Sherlock foes as he was told, looking at the man with wide eyes as he takes in Lestrade's stiff posture. Something is clearly wrong but Sherlock can't figure out what. Yes, he'd acted rudely and like a teenage girl but he'd quickly got himself together again, even allowing Lestrade to move forward with Amelia. Why was he upset now?

“You honestly have no idea do you?” Sherlock startles when Lestrade's hands are on his face, a pair of puppy eyes scanning him like it was a new world mystery. Being this close to Lestrade, observed like this, makes Sherlock's skin crawl, his mouth and tongue not able to cooperate with his brain.

“Oh, Sunshine.” Lestrade sighs, shaking his head fondly as he lets go of Sherlock's face, taking his office chair and placing it in front of Sherlock before sitting down on it.

“This is my fault.”

“W-What?”

“I should have been straight with you from the start.” Lestrade runs a hand through his silver hair and Sherlock's mind tortures him with memories of the last time his fingers brushed through it, Lestrade moaning his name. His body reacts to it instantly and Sherlock mentally berated himself. He'll have to do better in the future if he's going to survive this.

“Sherlock, are you listening?”

“S-sorry, what?”

Lestrade shakes his head again, taking Sherlock's hand and squeezing it, an unsure expression on his face.

“I said, did you honestly believe that what we've been sharing is some sort of fling to me? Some sort of casual sex between mates?”

“I. Well, I-” Sherlock blinks, nerves making it difficult to think as Lestrade watches him. Any moment now, Sherlock expects the man to get up and leave but Lestrade stays, holding onto Sherlock's hand more tightly.

“I don't see you as a friend with benefits, Sherlock. Or a lapse of judgment between relationships.” Lestrade's voice is a fraction harder than before and Sherlock casts his eyes down, nibbling his lip nervously.

“I'm in it for the long haul, Sherlock. Till the end of the line, really. It's a movie reference, you can look it up later.” Lestrade smiles at Sherlock's confused face, his other hand coming up to cup Sherlock's cheek.

“I love you, Sherlock. I thought these last few weeks had made that clear, but obviously not.”

“You- What?” Sherlock stumbles, blinking his eyes fast as Lestrade leans forward a bit, carefully articulating his words.

“I. Love. You.”

He's cut off from saying something stupid like 'why' or ' are you serious' by Lestrade's warm lips on his. By the time they pull apart, Sherlock is shaking all over, letting out a disapproving sound as the space between them gets bigger.

“You daft genius. How could I not fall in love with you?”

“But, I'm-”

“Don't.” Lestrade places a finger on his lips and Sherlock swallows down his words. “I've been in love with you for a while now, Sherlock. I just didn't want to rush this and scare you off. I should have realized.” Lestrade smiled, a hint of sadness in it and Sherlock grabs hold of the man, bringing their lips together again, his heart skipping a beat when it earns him a soft moan.

“I don't want you to dance with Amelia.”

“Good, I don't want to dance with Amelia. Only you.”

His heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest, face warm as Lestrade kisses him again, soft and full of promise.

“Lestrade.”

“You really need to start calling me Greg.” Greg smiles, eyes full with happiness and Sherlock swallows, a hint of nerves coming up. Lestrade loves him!

“G-Greg. I love you.”

There's a sharp intake of breath, Greg's mouth on his lips before hot breath reaches his ear, making his body turn into jelly.

“The way you say my name makes me want to take you right here.”

“Greg.”

“Fuck, Sunshine.”

They are both panting when they pull apart, Sherlock's cock begging for more as he looks at Greg, not able to stop a smile when he sees the beginning bulge in the man's pants.

“Want to dance with me?”

“God yes,” Greg's smile is predatory as he leans forward, whispering in Sherlock's ear. “And then I'm taking you home to show you how much I love you. You gorgeous creature.”

The End.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jealous, insecure Sherlock is something I really like to write about..... 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this story!

**Author's Note:**

> This story was the right opportunity to use a prompt line I had saved a while back. "There had been many theories about how she had been murdered"


End file.
